


you turn away (like i'm not here at all)

by pidgeotto_gunderson



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Established Relationship, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Kissing, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02, Season/Series 03, Swearing, based on a video i will link to in the notes, can i tag? not today, keith can't take care of himself for ANYTHING, kinda one-sided tbh, look guys i'm writing s3 fix-it's before s3 even drops, that's it it's just angst, which is weird because i NEVER write est relationship, you could read it otherwise but it's p much established relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 04:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10892154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pidgeotto_gunderson/pseuds/pidgeotto_gunderson
Summary: After Shiro disappears, Keith falls into a downward spiral, growing distant and spending every waking moment searching for any possible hint of Shiro's whereabouts. Lance tries to help, but it's hard to help someone who won't even talk to him.





	you turn away (like i'm not here at all)

**Author's Note:**

> credit to [@vp-dot-png](http://vp-dot-png.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for this fic's basis (from [this video](http://vp-dot-png.tumblr.com/post/155193394452/sorry-but-this-song-has-been-on-repeat-in-my-head)) thanks for letting me use this. it was a wonderful distraction from my laundry list of projects
> 
> also if you listen to the song from the video - 'phone down' by lost kings ft. emily warren - it's 10x better

Lance finds Keith sitting in the dark in the computer room, the harsh blue light of his tablet casting shadows across his face. He stands in the entryway for a minute, watching Keith tap insistently at the screen, his legs folded underneath him and his hair unruly. He’s still wearing his paladin armor. Lance sighs and tugs his jacket tighter around himself.

 

“Keith,” he says. There’s no response. _"_ _Keith.”_

 

Keith doesn’t jump, just twists around to glance at him, his gaze sort of vacant. There are dark bags under his eyes, the boy having barely slept in weeks (a fact Lance can personally confirm), his cheeks are sunken, and his face is paler than usual. “Oh, hey,” he says absently, turning back to the tablet screen.

 

Folding his arms across his chest, Lance steps into the room and leans against the wall. The boy in front of him looks so very different from the one Lance knew. _Thought_ he knew. There’s something off about this the boy here, something vague and distant, like his whole existence is blurring around the edges. Something’s missing, like that one puzzle piece you realize you lost only after you’ve completed the rest of the puzzle.

 

He knows what’s happened to Keith, what’s happened to all of them, and he gets it, he does. Loss does horrible things to people. But he wasn’t prepared for this, for how _hard_ this would be. For how much things would change. For how much _Keith_ would change.

 

(He thinks he’s probably changed quite a lot, too, having been thrust, yet again, into the role of protector. He’s used to taking care of people, but this is different.)

 

He’d expected it to be better, now that they at least have a lead on Shiro’s whereabouts. It’s not much, barely more than a rumor, but it’s still a lead. And yet, Keith is still obsessing, like he’s been doing for weeks.

 

Lance sighs again. “What are you even doing in here?”

 

“Working,” Keith replies shortly.”You should try it sometime.”

 

“You don’t have to be an ass, Keith,” Lance says levelly, forcing himself to keep his voice casual. Forcing himself to stay calm. “We’re just worried about you.”

 

Keith’s fingers still on the tablet, but he refuses to look at Lance. “Who’s ‘we’? You’re the only one bothering me right now.” He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear and his fingers go back to tap-tap-tapping.

 

_Stop it,_ he thinks, wishing he had the courage to say it out loud. _Stop treating me like I don’t mean anything to you._

 

“The others are worried about you, too,” he says instead, stepping towards Keith. “They just don’t have the energy to deal with your bullshit.”

 

“And I assume you do?” There’s a certain level of malice in Keith’s voice, a certain bite that used to be quite rare for Lance to hear, especially directed at him.

 

Whereas Lance is usually all bark and no bite, Keith has plenty of both and no qualms against using them.

 

“You know, Keith, I’m not sure I do,” Lance shoots back, and almost feels bad for it. But _damn_ , maybe he isn’t up for this right now. Their last mission ended only hours ago, he hasn’t slept in forty-eight hours, and he hasn’t even bothered to eat yet. He’s tired, so very tired of living like this. He spends practically every minute of every day waiting for the other shoe to drop and it’s _exhausting._ “I just -”

 

Keith cuts him off, finally jerking around to glare at him. “You just what, Lance? Did you need something or are you just here to -”

 

“Would you _stop?"_  Lance shouts, frustrated tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. “You’re acting like a goddamn brat, Keith, and it’s getting ridiculous.”

 

“Oh, fuck off, Lance,” Keith snaps back, running an angry hand through his hair.

 

“I’m _worried_ about you!” 

 

“So what, you think you’ll just give poor little Keith the ‘we care about you’ speech and earn your Good Samaritan points for the week? News flash, Lance, I don’t need your worry.”

 

Keith turns away from him again, and Lance can't do anything but stare at him. Lance opens his mouth, closes it again. Clenches his hands into fists and buries his fingernails in his palms. Breathes in. Breathes out.

 

Says, “Look, Keith, I know you don't want to hear anything I've got to say right now.” He ignores Keith’s not-so-subtle scoff. “But I can't just sit here and watch you self-destruct.”

 

Keith doesn't even respond.

 

Lance barrels on, gesturing wildly. “God, Keith, I _wish_ I could leave you alone. I wish I could just walk away and let you fall apart, but I can't! Because you're _falling apart_ and I'm trying to hold this goddamn team together! You're not sleeping, you're not eating, and I _get it,_ Keith. Shiro’s gone and we're _all_ hurting.

 

“I know he's important to you and I know you've lost him before and I know you're in pain, but this is important, Keith. You're gonna kill yourself if you keep up like this.” Lance is crying by now, hot, angry tears streaming down his face. And he aches, he fucking _aches_ , because this has been going on for weeks. He's always been good at taking care of other people, but he can't take care of someone who’s not willing to let him.

 

“We need you, Keith,” Lance says, pleading, begging for Keith to give him _something_ here. “ _I_ need you.”

 

And that's it - that's all he's got. He's poured his heart out, he's given everything he has to this boy who won't even look at him, and there are no more tricks up his sleeve.

 

But Keith still doesn't even acknowledge him.

 

And Lance knows he's being selfish, he does. He doesn't mean to be - his biggest concern here is that Keith is okay, that the whole team is okay, but buried underneath that is his desire for Keith to just _talk to him_. It doesn't have to be about Shiro or his feelings or anything like that; he just wishes they could go back to talking and laughing and making dumb inside jokes and just being together.

 

He wishes Keith would at least look him in the eyes.

 

“Are you even listening?”

 

Keith waves his hand dismissively and mutters, “Whatever,” and Lance can’t take any more of this.

 

Throwing caution to the wind, Lance marches forward, grabs Keith’s wrist, yanks him around, and smashes their lips together in a bruising kiss.

 

The last thing he sees before his eyes shut is Keith’s eyes widening in shock. The kiss tastes of salty tears and the bloodstains of their latest battle. Their noses bump together and their teeth clash, but Lance doesn’t care. He buries one hand in Keith’s hair, uses the other to tug Keith closer by the collar of his armor. Keith’s free hand hovers at Lance’s shoulder, and then the tablet clatters to the floor and his other hand comes to rest on Lance’s hip.

 

Lance feels something loosen in his chest, like he can finally breathe again.

 

Keith pulls away after a moment and Lance has to force himself not to follow.

 

They’re inches apart, both breathing heavily and staring at each other’s lips. And Lance says, “Can’t you just…take a break? Come to bed. We can talk, or - or not talk! Whatever you want, Keith.”

 

He’s finally getting somewhere, he thinks. Keith is looking at him, really looking at him, without a hint of the iciness Lance has grown used to. There’s no distance between them, right now. For the moment, they breathe the same air, exist in each other’s space.

 

Lance is only just thinking, _I missed this_ , when Keith steps back.

 

Keith’s expression hardens and his eyes grow distant once again; he turns away, pulling his hair into a ponytail as he does, saying, “Lance, I don’t - look, can we talk about this later?”

 

Lance makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. He’s been free-falling ever since this whole thing started, and Keith is supposed to be there to catch him.

 

Thing is, Keith _is_ there. He just hasn’t noticed that Lance is falling.

 

With a noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh, Lance rakes his fingers through his hair, practically yanking strands out of his head. He should just let him go. Surely it would hurt less than this.

 

But his feet are moving before he can stop himself and he’s yelling before he even knows what he wants to say. 

 

“What could be so _goddamn_ important, Keith, that it can’t wait until the morning?” Keith turns to him in surprise, takes an almost automatic step backwards, effectively trapping himself between Lance and the table behind him. “We have a lead already, you can stop obsessing for five minutes! You’re scared and upset, I get that, but you can’t take it out on everyone else! On _me_.”

 

“I didn’t -”

 

“It doesn’t _matter_ if you meant it, Keith!” Lance throws his hands up in frustration. Keith is looking at him like he’s the one who’s unrecognizable, even though it’s the other way around. “Shiro’s gone, but we’re still here. I’m _right here_ and it’s like you’re looking through me.” 

 

“Please, Keith,” Lance says softly, lacing his fingers through Keith’s and holding their hands up between the two of them. Keith’s eyes follow the movement, skirt over Lance’s face, and finally settle on a spot just above Lance’s shoulder.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and doesn’t sound very sorry at all. He sounds far away, even now. “You should go to bed.”

 

“Like you care about my wellbeing.”

 

“I _do_.” He says it so fiercely that Lance almost believes him. Keith bends to pick up his tablet, pulling his hand out of Lance’s, and when he stands back up, his shoulders are hunched. “I hear you, I do, I just - I can’t do this right now.”

 

“You’re hearing me -” Lance shakes his head in disbelief  “- but you’re still not listening.”

 

Keith scoffs and says tiredly, “I really don’t have time for this right now, Lance.”

 

Lance rubs at his eyes with his sleeve, sniffling, and thinks back to before. Before Shiro disappeared, before Keith started shutting him out, before all of this. He can see Keith’s bright smile, saved just for him, and he can hear Keith’s laugh, the unrestrained one that he only lets Lance hear, bubbling up in the confines of one of their bedrooms.

 

He stares at the collar of Keith’s armor  for a long moment. Closes his eyes. And gives up.

 

“Fine,” Lance says, lets his arms drop back to his sides. He blinks back a new wave of tears, sets his jaw, lifts his chin, and tries not to let his voice waver. “Let me know when you decide to stop treating me like something stuck on the bottom of your shoe.”

 

Despite himself, he can’t bring himself to move without giving Keith a chance to reply. When he doesn’t, Lance turns jerkily, unsteadily on his heel. He makes it halfway to the door before pausing.

 

He’s a little hysterical and more than a little pissed off when he calls, voice sing-songy and silky sweet, “Or, y’know, don’t! Whatever floats your boat, Keithy-boy!” He looks over his shoulder to find Keith leaning on the desk, tablet lying a few feet away from him, forgotten. 

 

“I’m done,” he says to the back of Keith’s head and walks out of the room.

 

He doesn’t see Keith turn at the sound of the door opening, and he doesn’t hear Keith say his name as the door shuts.

 

Lance isn’t sure he would’ve looked back anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos, comments, con-crit appreciated
> 
> (also to everyone following my WiP Breathe Me and/or my fix-it series, i swear i'm not done with either of those, i'm just really busy with other projects and stuff


End file.
